


Just Hear Those Slay Bells Jingling

by metaphasia



Category: Santa Clarita Diet (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphasia/pseuds/metaphasia
Summary: Their freshman year of college, Abby is looking forward to winter break, and finally getting to see her boyfriend again. What could possibly go wrong to derail her plans of two weeks of the two of them alone, without any undead shenanigans to interfere from private time for the two of them to make out?She just had to tempt fate.
Relationships: Eric Bemis/Abby Hammond
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Just Hear Those Slay Bells Jingling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bean_allusions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bean_allusions/gifts).



The first words Abby heard when she picked up the phone were “We have a problem”.

Abby let out a groan and leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Of course they had a problem - she had been foolish enough to relax and let herself think things would be normal for all of a minute. She had even thought to herself _I only have one more final before winter break, I just have to study for it, we've managed to avert the zombie apocalypse yet again, what can go wrong?_

Hubris.

Clearly, this was the universe punishing her for her hubris.

“Hey, Eric. What is it? Did Ramona show up at your dorm room again? Because I swear, if she trekked all the way over to Boston _again_ I will end that bitch, I don't care that you still like her as a friend, this is pushing it too far.”

“Nooo,” Eric breathed out the denial, extending the word in a clear attempt to delay telling her what their latest issue was. “She's been very respectful of your restraining order, and even said that she 'recognizes your clear authority as the de facto enforcement of undead territory'.”

“Wow, she said all that? She normally just goes monosyllabic when I show up,” Abby's voice turned curious, disbelief at the long history of trouble they had had with Ramona's antics jeopardizing the secret, her blatant kill sites and travel patterns having caused the police to circle in on the undead more easily until they had forced the issue. “Wait, you're trying that thing, where you try to distract me by getting me curious about another thing. What went wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong, per se, so much as – you remember I told you about my roommate, Grant?” Eric asked her, and Abby groaned audibly. Grant's annoying tendencies had been the bane of Eric's time his freshman year at MIT, and made Abby so thankful she had decided to live at home instead of moving on campus as she attended the local branch of UC. Even still, despite his clipping his nails while Eric was trying to study, and his taste in science fiction films, and his being able to out pedantic Eric half the time, the two boys had become friends, somehow. Abby figured she either had to be missing something, that Eric had only told her half the story and only given her the gripes and not the fun times, or that it was some weird boy thing, because from the details she had heard, no way that even living with _the twins_ was worse than Grant.

“Yeah, I guess you do remember him,” Eric continued, at her sigh of dismay. “Anyway, his parents are going through that post divorce competition phase and he was looking for a diplomatic way to get out of picking a side of whose house he was going to stay at for the holidays, and whether he was going to celebrate Hanukkah or Christmas, and … he begged me to let him come to my place for winter break and I said yes.” Eric let the last words out in a rush, his voice dropping a register as he tried to get the words past her, and Abby sat bolt upright in her chair, her chemistry textbook forgotten in front of her.

“Wait,” she commanded, her voice brooking no disagreement. “Your roommate Grant, whose parents are some big shot super star lawyer and an _FBI agent_ , is coming _here_ for Christmas, and since he doesn't know anyone in town, he's going to be right next to you the whole time, is that what you're telling me?”

“Yeah. We need to have a completely zombie madness free winter break,” Eric admitted.

Abby groaned again, and bashed her head against the textbook on her desk, thumping down on it repeatedly.

Hubris.

\---

“Relax, honey, what could -” Joel started to say, but Abby quickly shoved an apple in his mouth.

“ _Don't you dare say it!_ ” She shouted. “We have invoked hubris already, and we do not need to tempt fate any more.”

Joel gagged, and pulled the apple out, giving her a glare but then shrugged. “We have Mr. and Mrs. Ball Legs over at Ron and Gary's for the next two weeks, and they promised to baby sit them. We've got all the people parts out of the freezer and in the storage unit. We only have _minimal_ weapons still in the house, nothing unusual. And most importantly – we had time to decorate. We're ready for this.”

Becoming a zombie removed all your inhibitions and turned a person into pure id. The thing was, the Hammonds didn't live in the suburbs just because, Abby's dad was, at heart, basically a soccer mom. Ever since he had become a zombie, he had become Martha Stewart, but _aggressively_ , not the type to go to jail for white collar securities fraud, but for punching a lady out for judging his blood orange-chocolate pudding pie (no actual blood) second place in the local baking competition. _It was not a good thing_.

But on the upside, it meant that if they needed to pull off the appearance of a perfectly normal family, there was no one better to have. The house was currently done up with actual fresh plants, real boughs of holly wrapped into live wreaths, not plastic ones, coating every surface. There were colored candles on every flat surface, and they had both a tree (on display, in the living room) and a hanukkiah (in a box in the basement, which Joel had purchased for the occasion, wanting one handy to be prepared in case Grant wanted to celebrate, since they knew he was Jewish). Joel had decided to to go with a tasteful blue and gold and white theme, to avoid any particular religious affiliation – including for the holiday sweaters (hand-knit, of course) that all three of them were wearing, and the two extras that he had made for Eric and his roommate.

Another fun fact about zombies was that they didn't really require sleep.

Sheila just gave a beaming smile of approval, and patted him on the back. “That's excellent, sweetie! Seriously, Abby, don't worry, we're not _that_ weird, we can still pull off normal.”

Abby could only stare at her mother in shock, her eyes wide at the sheer disregard for their past history. Before she could respond however, the back door opened.

“Hello Hammond family!” Eric called out, loudly, using his 'there is someone with me so act casual' voice. Was it weird that Abby could recognize that tone of his? She turned and headed into the kitchen, greeting her boyfriend with a fierce hug. While she did so, her dad stepped around to shake Grant's hand.

“Hello, young man! So nice to meet you. Would you like a ginger cookie? I made plenty,” Joel said, his solicitous nature coming to the fore. “We also have fresh scones.”

“Umm – nice to meet you. And – I guess?” Grant answered, shaking his hand.

Just as Abby began to relax, her mother spoke up.

“Wow, Grant, it's nice to meet you. And what deliciously large ears you have!”

Abby groaned, and felt Eric tense up in her arms.

“Is it too soon to tell you this was a really bad idea?” she asked him, and he huffed out an agreement.

“We just need to make it through two weeks,” Eric whispered into her ear.

\---

“Hey, Grant, buddy, why don't you come with me to the kitchen. You were telling me you weren't a fan of the menu we had for dinner last night, and, I'd like to get your feedback on some potential options for tonight,” Joel said, his voice pleasant, but concealing a streak of displeasure at being foisted with the young man.

Abby gave her dad a smirk as he glared at her when Grant turned his back on them to head to the kitchen, waving her victorious scissors hand sign at him, when he had picked paper for their impromptu match over getting him out of her hair.

Honestly, Grant wasn't that bad – she could see why Eric had taken a shine to him, enough to invite him over for the holiday break. He was kind and polite and well mannered, and despite their disagreements about everything under the sun, he and Eric were always friendly about it and never cruel or hurtful, more playful and teasing, taking enjoyment out of the chance to match wits and one up each other in nerd trivia.

Really, he only had one major flaw – well, two, if she counted “had to be kept unaware of zombies and made everyone walk on egg shells to avoid letting him in on Santa Clarita's best-worst-kept-secret”. Because he was local to D.C., he didn't know anyone in California, aside from Eric, and spent all his free time with him. Abby couldn't really fault him for that, having upended his entire normal holiday routine, because “traveling across the country to spend the winter break with people he barely knew” was definitely more attractive as an option than “spend the holidays trapped as a pawn between his parents working through a bitter divorce”. She had never been placed in that exact scenario before, but with how crazy her life was, she definitely empathized with him. And even his annoying habits, weren't that bad. He hadn't even complained about the menu, so much as looked morose over missing his family's special traditions.

The only issue Abby truly had with him, was that because he was basically glued to Eric's hip, she hadn't been able to get five minutes alone with her boyfriend since he got home, and she was glad to finally have a chance to be with him, just the two of them. As soon as the two men had left the room, she sprang out of her chair, crossing over to where he sat on the couch, a wide grin on her face as she straddled his lap, running her hands through his short brown hair, and pulling him in for a kiss.

They spent a few delightful moments making out, the telephone ringing somewhere over her shoulders, but neither caring.

Just as Eric's hand slid down her back, grabbing her ass, however, she heard a throat clearing behind her, and they both froze, breaking off the kiss.

Abby pressed her forehead against Eric's, taking a few moments to calm down, slowing her breathing, before she responded. “Hey, mom.”

“Look, I hate to interrupt, sweetie, but we have a problem,” Sheila said, her voice sympathetic at her inopportune interruption. “That was Ron on the phone, and it sounds like we might have an outbreak, over at the vet's office.”

Abby groaned in frustration. “Can't you and dad deal with it?”

“Of course,” her mother answered, her voice slightly sarcastic. “We'll just take Grant with us when we go – oh wait. Look, you can either stop Grant from being suspicious that your dad suddenly bailed on meal prep, or -”

“Or we can go deal the undead, got it,” Abby sighed, and pulled back, staring into Eric's eyes, giving him an eyebrow raise to see what his opinion was.

She was just about to answer that they would stay and entertain Grant, when she heard his voice cry out from the kitchen.

“Oh, you have to be joking, the original series was far superior to any of the remakes!”

Then, in perfect unison, she and Eric both spoke up.

“Zombies.”

Sheila sighed, but nodded. “Don't forget to swing by the storage unit, you'll probably want to grab Tommy's – I mean, your dad's crossbow, Ron made it sound like a big one.”

\---

Abby was going to kill Ron. Literally. She was going to take the hammer knife, and shove it into the back of his head.

Apparently, it wasn't a _normal_ zombie outbreak. When he had said it was at the vet's office, what he had failed to mention was that it was a _zombie lion from the zoo_. They would have to have a serious talk about critical, need to know, information, when she got back.

If she got back. The lion took that opportunity to lunge at her again, and she had to roll out of the way, her shot going wide as she pulled the trigger, and she quickly tried to reload. But she wasn't quite fast enough, the already agile animal having preternaturally increased speed from it's transformation, and it rounded on her, just as she finished winching the strings back to load the next bolt. Her eyes widened, and she pulled it out of her quiver, hoping to get it slotted in time, unable to dodge any more with how it had cornered her against some crates.

It took a few stalking steps forward, before lunging, and Abby winced, knowing her death was imminent.

“Abby!” she heard Eric's voice cry out, and then, at the last second, he interposed himself between their forms. The lion managed to knock him aside easily, throwing him against the back wall of the clinic, and he let out a wheezing huff of air from the force of the impact, and Abby's heart started racing, worried for him.

He had bought her just enough time, however, to get the crossbow reloaded and brought back up, and she sent the bolt through the lion's head, and it crumpled to the floor. A part of her sighed at the sight, crying out “but they're endangered” while the other, zombie slaying Knight of Serbia half, responded “it was already dead!”. She didn't let the internal conflict stall her though, as she raced over to Eric, quickly kneeling next to him.

“Eric? Eric?” she called out his name, shaking his shoulder and checking his breathing, desperate, worried.

He let out a pained groan, but spoke. “Think – I'm – all – here.”  
His voice was slow, his words quiet, but Abby felt tears form in her eyes in relief and slumped down over him, crying into his shirt. His hand lifted up to rub her back, and that only set her tears off harder. Even when he was in great pain, he was still focused on comforting her first. Her hands tightened into fists in his shirt, not ready to move quite yet.

“Why – crying?” He asked her.

“You're not allowed to die on me. I love you, dumb ass.”

\---

It wasn't particularly hard to sneak into Eric's room for Abby, not that it ever had been. His mom didn't even lock the back door half the time, and, once she and Eric had started dating for real, had even given her a key and carte blanche to come and go as she pleased. Mrs. Palmer wasn't really the best parent at enforcing rules, but considering she was the only adult figure in Abby's life who _wasn't_ an obligate cannibal, and her son was at MIT, she figured she didn't really have room to judge her.

And as fun as sneaking around was, and Abby definitely got a little vicarious thrill out of breaking the law, she was just too tired right now to do so properly. Averting the end of the world from an exponential growth chain was _hard_ and somehow, no matter how many times they stopped the zombie apocalypse, it was always right on the horizon again.

She carefully opened Eric's bedroom door, lifting it ever so slightly so that it wouldn't creak on the hinges, and padded in on silent feet, long practice from her clandestine activities letting her walk without sound.

Eric was laid back in his bed, almost in the same position he had been in the first night they had decided to try a relationship, and Abby felt a smile grace her face at the wave of deja vu that rushed through her. He still had tape wrapped around his ribs, and his eyes were fluttered close, his breathing steady but heavy.

Abby crawled into bed with him, feeling him stir as she did, and he let out a soft exhale of surprise.

“Abby? What are you doing?” He whisper hissed at her. “I'm um, really not in the shape for anything fun, and even if I was, Grant is _right there_.”

“Relax,” she replied, laying her head down in his lap. “We're just cuddling, dingus. I almost lost you today, _again_ , and … I just needed to know you're still alive. I'm not gonna be able to sleep otherwise, and I was really looking forward to seeing you open your present in the morning, and I almost didn't get to. I almost didn't get any of our future.”

His hand rose up to stroke her hair, and she squeezed his leg in appreciation. They sat there, silent, for a long while, the only sound Grant's snoring, and the only light the LEDs of the steadily advancing numbers on his clock. Finally, they ticked over, into a new hour and new day, and Eric whispered to her again.

“Merry Christmas, Abby,” he said, and she sat up in bed, finally, turning to give him a tight, but light hug, not wanting to aggravate his injuries. “I already got the best present I could ask for, you. Wait, was that too cheesy?”

“Yeah, but it was just perfect,” she told him, and pressed a light kiss on to his cheek, freezing when she heard a loud growl echo through the room. “Next year, though, I don't care what happens, no sharing a room with Grant, we can stick him on the couch or you can come over to my room instead.”

Eric let out a soft chuckle, his face wincing slightly from the strain on his chest, but not overly so. “Deal. I'm looking forward to our future together.”


End file.
